


The Phoenix and His Lioness

by Sailing the Malky Way (Fan_by_Proxy)



Category: Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Love Confessions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:48:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29424069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fan_by_Proxy/pseuds/Sailing%20the%20Malky%20Way
Summary: Ash Rivers spent three years in the Great North, trying to learn how to be a better version of himself. In spite of the time and distance, he never forgot the girl he left behind. It's time for him to return to California and tell her how he feels.[Tags will be updated as they apply]
Relationships: Ash Rivers/Original Nosferatu Character(s), Mitnick/Original Malkavian Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	1. Welcome Back/I Love You

**Author's Note:**

> This story follows my updated VTM:B timeline (modern, because I barely remember being an adult in 2004) and the gal in question is my Nosferatu Vinny (featured in "How to [Not] Catch A Thief")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28375179)

The private airport in Burbank was a well-guarded collection of hangars and runways that looked, for all intents and purposes, like every other well-guarded collection one might fly into. What separated it from someplace like LAX was that _this_ airport was Kindred property: staffed by ghouls, with hiding places for those who made the mistake of flying red-eye, and a sanguine concierge. Even with these facts in place, the little Burbank hub was still subject to the rules of the Masquerade, which meant any less-than-passing Kindred had to tread lightly and _dress_ appropriately.

That wasn’t so hard for Mitnick; a baseball cap and overlarge leather jacket he could hunch down into had him generally indistinguishable. Vinny, on the other hand, struggled to hold a casual posture while being wrapped in an ensemble that was equal parts Stevie Nicks and a pile of laundry. She leaned against the side of the cab, grateful at least to not be bunched into the backseat; the ride was a little long for someone with her extended inseam. “Hey, thanks again.” she said to the green-haired Malkavian to her right.

Circe smiled, pulling Mitnick’s arm around her shoulders and sliding her arm around his waist under the jacket. “Think nothing of it! Such is the purpose of this lemon, as long as it rolls willingly downhill.” she said cheerfully. The cab was her inheritance, a gift and sort-of reward for (as _he_ had put it) ‘doing more in the night than scrabbling for temporary power’. Circe hadn’t quite understood what _he_ had meant by that, or what _he_ had been getting at, but it was nice to have the junker to roll around in. “When do the phoenix’s wings come to rest once more?”

“Uh…his flight was supposed to get in around 11, our time.” Vinny replied as she checked her phone. “It might be here already, I dunno. I’ve never flown private.”

Mitnick snorted, squeezing his girl against his side tighter. “Of _course_ he’s flying privately.” he said, doing a poor job of keeping _all_ the derision out of his voice.

“Aw, cut him some slack.” Vinny scoffed. “It’s not _his_ plane, it’s his friend’s--guy’s the Baron of Manitoba.” she explained. “Supposed to be an ok guy.”

“That’s not a lot better.” Mitnick replied, shaking his head.

“Hush. It’s part and parcel and package, a dove wing instead of a lemon.” Circe pointed out. She then sighed, then pulled out her phone, because that didn’t make any sense _even_ to her ears. ****Dude’s giving Ash a ride like I do, NBD****

“ _Thank you_.” Vinny said, after reading the Malkavian’s screen. “He’s a nice guy, really.” she added.

“Excuse me for being skeptical,” Mitnick said with a shrug, “dunno _why_ , since it’s not like Toreadors are known to actively talk shit about everyone else.” he said sarcastically.

“Everyone talks shit about everyone.” Vinny pointed out. “Bunch of gossiping-ass monsters that we are.” she grinned as Mitnick grumbled something approximating ‘you’re not wrong’. Then she felt the Malkavian freeze beside her. “Hon? You ok?”

Circe twisted in Mitnick’s grip, head turning as far as she can manage. “Papa Bear and Dolly ride the longest steed, intent to greet the phoenix with nets of barbed wire.” she said, turning owlishly large eyes on Vinny.

Vinny hated the wide-eyed look; it usually meant the poor girl was going to be extra-scrambled for at least the next few minutes. “Hon, I have _no_ idea what you--” she started to say, thought interrupted by the smooth arrival of a glossy black limousine. The limo was obviously new, running quiet and putting the poor cab to shame as it rolled past. Vinny wondered if she wasn’t going to have to dive into the backseat of the cab to hide; the airport was _supposed_ to be a goddamn paparazzi free zone!

“Dolly? Babe, you mean Velour?” Mitnick asked, as the driver stepped out of the limo and went to open a passenger door…but not before he cast a sneer on the trio by the cab. “Well fuck you too.” he muttered.

“ _Fuck_ …fuck, fuck, fuck, why is that asshole here?” Vinny murmured behind her hand as Isaac emerged from the leather interior of the overpriced ride.

“Talking Dolly got wound up and no one took her key out.” Circe replied, as the redheaded owner of Vesuvius emerged, with Isaac’s help.

The pair were dressed warmly for the night, Velvet in furs and Isaac in wool. They could’ve been a power couple: the producer and his pretty fourth wife, or something to that effect. Isaac’s sneer was neon in its obviousness, overshadowing the expression of distaste on Velvet’s face.

“And _what_ are you doing here?” Isaac demanded coldly, addressing Circe.

“I think perhaps the same as you, Baron of Bitterness: we mean to greet the phoenix, make warm a welcome after his time in the Great North.” she explained. “Why the fuck are you two here?” Circe managed to force out; of the three of them, she knew she ran the least risk of causing _an incident_ with that question. Isaac might not have much of a stake in _actual_ Anarch causes, but he did treat her the slightest modicum better after her break from the Camarilla. Of course, this would leave her too scrambled in the ensuing argument (because it was very clear from Isaac’s posture that he was _itching_ to toss barbs), but such was the reality of being her kind of Malkavian.

“Do _you_ understand it?” Isaac asked, turning towards Velvet.

“ _Easy_.” Vinny said behind her hand, hearing the low warning rumble on the other side of the Malkavian. “Keep cool, Nicky, just keep cool.”

“I’m a fucking ice cube.” he hissed, obviously lying.

Circe shook her head. ****We’re here to pick up Ash, not scrap with this old bastard. Besides, I get called worse than IT at last call. Bitch gonna have to try harder lol****

Vinny snorted, watching as the redhead shook her head. While the Malkavian could be damn obtuse sometimes, her earlier statement wasn’t _that_ hard to puzzle out. “What’s not to get, Isaac? We’re here to see Ash, same as you. Actually, not the same as you, because he’s expecting us. We’re his ride--because we’re friends, and that’s what _friends_ do. They pick each other up from the airport.” she said cheerfully, smiling broadly, tipping her face so the sodium lights outside the hangar fell below her wide-brimmed hat to shine on her smile. Vinny was fortunate in that she had not developed the more disjointed or needle-like teeth of the Clan; her teeth were just sharper all around, fangs mostly withdrawn until she needed them.

“Cute.” Isaac said drily. “ It’s nice to see you’ve found work after crawling out from under Lacroix’s coat.” he added, eyes still focused on Circe. “Shame you didn’t _also_ find some better company.”

“Cold, cutting, cruel!” Circe scolded. “Damn Sail and Scattered Skelter are better bracers than steel and ill-intent.”

“Sweetheart…” Velvet purred, though her expression was exasperated. “That’s not what he meant.”

“Oh, she knows what he meant.” Mitnick snapped. “But see, unlike your boss there, she’s not trying to start some petty shit for no reason.”

Isaac scoffed. “Would that I had known to bring muzzles; can you muzzle a rat though?”

“You tell us Isaac, you’re the one who works in Hollywood.” Vinny replied. “Is that real fur, Velvet? Awfully brave of you; I’d be afraid of some PETA loser with a can of paint popping up out of nowhere.”

“Is that a _threat_?” Velvet demanded, affronted.

“A threat to do what? I’m trying to make _pleasant_ conversation, because the night is too short for whatever…” she gestured vaguely in Isaac’s direction, “you’re doing.”

Mitnick snorted.

Isaac’s sneer pulled back further into a snarl. “Why don’t the three of you misbegotten, woefully pathetic little gnats get back in that probably-not-street-legal _thing_ you call a vehicle, and go find a hole to rut in; my Childe deserves better than…” he gestured at the three of them in a mockery of Vinny’s hand, “ _you_.”

Before any of the three could retort in their respective ways (an insult, a blow, or a graphic regaling of sexual escapades _with_ Nosferatu), the door to the hangar opened. Ash stood frozen in the door frame, a stunned expression on his face.

He’d been expecting to see the cab, and _Vinny_ …and her Malkavian friend. A second Nosferatu was a bit of a surprise, but not necessarily a bad one. The _bad_ surprise was Isaac, and Velvet, and a limo. Ash swallowed, gripping the handle of his duffle tightly. He felt a hand on his back; just a light pressure, not pushing him out into the tension or pulling him away from it.

“Easy lad.” the Baron of Manitoba murmured softly. “Focus on where you want, not where you don’t want.” he added.

Ash took a deep breath, giving a barely-perceptible nod. He stepped over the threshold, intent on walking calmly-but-quickly to the three waiting by the cab; but the second he caught Vinny’s beautiful eyes, that intent was shot to hell. Ash dropped the duffle and nearly ran at her, accidentally elbowing the girl next to her as he wrapped his arms around the Nosferatu and pulled her tight against him. “ _Oh_ but I’m glad to see you!” he murmured against the side of her head, feeling tension drain away as pineapple and flowers filled his nose.

Vinny was startled by the greeting, to say the least! She laughed, patting his sides lightly, as her arms were mostly pinned to her sides by his hug. “ _Ash_! Almost knocked me down, boy, what are you thinking?” She started to shake her head, but felt the wide-brimmed hat start to tip back too far. It was a good thing she didn’t actually need to breathe; he was hugging her quite literally for dear life. She thought she felt him kiss the side of her head. “Hi, honey.” she said softly.

Ash drew back slowly, hands trailing along her arms until he reached her hands. Her palms still had those slightly rough pads, and her claws were lacquered with shimmering silver glitter. He smiled, giving her fingers a light squeeze. “You look amazing.” he said, meaning it with every fiber of his being.

Vinny snorted. “Yeah, sure.” she brushed him off. “Did you ever actually get to meet Circe before?” she asked, working a hand free to gesture to the Malkavian beside her. “Your on-the-ground girl.” she added.

Ash found himself in an awkward hug as the Malkavian pulled his arm around her waist and threw her arms around his shoulders, pressing her cheek to his. It might’ve been less awkward if he had let go of Vinny’s hand, but he wasn’t about to do that. “I really owe you…you’ve been such a big help in the club.” And that was the truth; the Malkavian had sussed out a couple of crooked bartenders, a coke ring, and one bad manager in the time he’d been gone. It had been Vinny’s idea to send her in--to be Ash’s eyes since she herself couldn’t.

“No tabs called yet, Man-of-Action; what else do friends do _but_ lend hands?” Circe replied as she drew back, settling comfortably against Mitnick again.

The green-haired girl’s words sounded strangely ominous, but he didn’t hold it against her. That was something of a by-product for Childer of Malkav, he’d learned during his time spent around Manitoba’s Baron. “I really appreciate it.” he said warmly.

Vinny squeezed his hand. “And that’s Mitnick; her boyfriend, my cousin.”

Ash offered the other Nosferatu a nod. It was still a little odd to him that the Nosferatu referred to each other in familial ways, but that just spoke more to how good _they_ were as a Clan.

Mitnick tightened his grip on Circe’s waist, giving the Toreador a bro-nod back. He was still angry enough to throw hands at the old man, on top of the general anxiety of being out in the open.

“Glad to meet you.” Ash said quietly, before turning his attention back to Vinny. He took her free hand back in his again. “There’s something I have to tell you.” he started, voice soft.

“What’s up, honey?” Vinny cocked her head, feeling his grip on her hands tighten ever so slightly. It was steady though, no trace of tremor or faint, slick haze of vitae-laced perspiration. That was good; he wasn’t heading into a panic attack being back on the ground in LA with Isaac over his shoulder.

“I love you.” Ash brought her hands to his lips, kissing the knuckles. “ _I love you_ more than I know how to say. I love you, and I came here to look you in your beautiful eyes and tell you that truth. I love you.” he repeated. Someone squawked _‘what’_ and someone else made a shushing noise; that didn’t matter. What mattered was the dawning look of wide-eyed surprise on Vinny’s face. “I love you.” Ash said again.

Her eyes felt like they were going to fall right out of their sockets. _What_ the hell and _where_ the hell was this coming from?! “Ash--” Vinny’s confusion was interrupted by Isaac barking Ash’s name sternly.

“ _Ash_!” the Baron fairly snarled. “What is the meaning of this?! You disappear for three years only to come sailing back in, in flannel, proclaiming _love_ to a goddamn sewer rat?!”

“Isaac--” Velvet’s voice struggled against her adopted purr and the very real worry that this outburst would set off the fight that had only _just_ been stayed by Ash’s appearance. She didn’t doubt that Isaac would make short work of the miscreants by the cab (although she would somewhat miss the Malkavian)--he _did_ get his hands dirty when he absolutely had to--but the ensuing shit storm with their nasty Primogen was something he didn’t _need_ to deal with.

The air crackled with resentment; Ash saw the Malkavian throw an arm in front of the Nosferatu, and the rage that twisted Vinny’s face into something close to the one she’d worn that night so long ago. He turned away from her, meaning to speak out against the insults and maybe unleash a little of the resentment that still simmered after all this time…but his eyes strayed too far, and in an instant Isaac’s vicious hook was live in his brain.

“ _Get_ in this car, Ash. We’re going home.” Isaac snapped.

Ash tightened his grip on Vinny’s hands, even as his body fought to turn towards Isaac and _obey_.

“ _So_ sorry Ash, I got hung up trying to chat up that black-haired beauty; no luck I’m afraid! Now let’s all pile into this - _oh what a nice cab, haven’t seen one like this in years!-_ and be on our way, I’m not spending the whole damned trip at an airport, did that in Istanbul and it was such a waste of night!”

Ash found himself being pushed into the cab, seeing purple velvet-clad arms on either side of him. He wanted to urge Frederick to _be careful_ as Frederick’s gloved hands urged Vinny’s head down to keep from bashing against the car; he wanted to protest being pushed and apologize for pushing and express gratitude for the older vampire’s bombastic interference. But Isaac’s hook was _still_ pulling at him and it was all he could do not to try to climb over and out of the cab to obey.

“Lock the kiddie doors and step on the gas, dear! We’re away before you get yourselves in trouble!” the Baron of Manitoba ordered.

Isaac watched the cab fishtail and disappear in a cloud of dust, seething.

Velvet worried her fingers, feeling a false nail crack. “Isaac?” she asked softly.

The Baron ignored her and pulled his phone out of his pocket, then proceeded to make several short, angry phone calls to his ghouls and support around Hollywood. In effect, he would _ban_ his wayward Childe until the handsome fool was ready to see sense. There wasn’t an effective way to ban the Nosferatu, and banning the Malkavian would cause a little irritation with Nines’ group downtown--he would just have to rely on his support to make the little lunatic feel _very_ unwelcome if she decided to roll into town. “Velvet.” Isaac said tersely, opening the limo door for her after his calls were made.

Velvet slid inside obediently, sitting tensely on the edge of the seat. “Yes, Isaac?”

Isaac sat down heavily next to her. “If Ash is not coming to see _me_ , he is not welcome in Hollywood. Period.” he said firmly. “You are _not_ to help him sneak around my order, no matter how much he begs you to. I won’t ban you from seeing him; maybe _you_ can talk some sense into him, which I expect you to try if he insists on being stubborn. Do you understand?”

Velvet swallowed. Isaac wasn’t her Sire, and they’d never shared blood. But all the same, she was obedient to his whims. “I understand, Isaac.” she said softly.

“Good.” Isaac said shortly. “Driver? We’re leaving.” he snapped. There was still work to be done, and he wanted it done before Ash came crawling back. After all, where else _could_ he stay, if not in Hollywood?

“Uh…” Vinny was crammed awkwardly in the corner of the backseat, feet in the strange vampire’s lap, and Ash’s proclamation still ringing in her ears. “ _Sorry_ …” she decided to start with the easiest thing to deal with: her feet in a random lap. “Cars are uh…kinda hard.”

Frederick smiled. “You’re alright dear, I didn’t bang you around too badly, did I? I’m sorry if I did. Frederick Campbell,” he said, extending a hand to Vinny, reaching across Ash, “and I’m glad to see you.”

“Vinny.” she replied, carefully shaking his hand. “My cousin Mitnick, up there at the front, and Circe.” she added, gesturing respectively.

Frederick stuck his hand between the seats to get begrudging and awkward handshakes from the other two Kindred. “Any friends of Ash are fine by me.”

“That was uh…that was some entrance, my man.” Mitnick said slowly.

“Well, as much as I love a good brawl, it’s a little hard when someone’s pulling the hook.” Frederick replied.

“The hook?” Vinny asked.

“You know, _the hook_. Or is it called something different down here?” the Baron asked. He blinked, taking in the confused looks. “Who in here still has a living Sire to call on them, besides Ash?”

Mitnick halfway raised his hand. “Just me. Hunters axed Circe’s…what was it babe, like ten years ago?” he asked, waiting for her sharp nod before continuing. “And Vinny’s…” he twisted around to share a look with her, to gauge how much to say. “Well he’s dead too.” he finished, in consideration of Vinny’s unsure look.

Frederick blinked. “Tough nights. Alright, ah--crash course for the ladies, and maybe _you_ can tell me what it’s called here,” he gestured between the Malkavian and the Nosferatu, “the hook’s what your Sire puts in you. Makes you obedient. Partly the blood bond that gets made when you do the swap, but it’s also just something…deep. Hard to break, even after some years.” he explained.

“I don’t think we’ve ever called it something special.” Mitnick said. “It’s just kinda…there.”

“Your Sire must not get to yanking your chain then.” Frederick said.

“He doesn’t.” Mitnick said shortly. “Not like that.”

“Mitnick’s Sire is also the Nosferatu Primogen around here.” Vinny explained, her voice carrying a note of warning. “He’s a good guy, he doesn’t--he’s not--he’s up front, when you’re in the shit with him.” she said.

Mitnick nodded in agreement. “Gary Golden. Just so you know, even if you’re not here on official business.”

The older vampire nodded. “Appreciate the details. As for Isaiah back there? I’ll make it up to the old sod later.” Frederick shrugged. “Baron-to-baron,” he grinned at the shocked looks on the Nosferatu faces, “Baron of Manitoba, but I really am just on vacation. Trying not to _lead_ with that, yeah?”

Before anyone could answer, a K-pop song interrupted.

Mitnick snorted. “Babe, really?”

Circe pulled over, shrugging. “It’s got Style.” she said quietly, fishing her phone out to read.

Vinny took a deep breath, trying to keep most of her legs and feet off the other two. “So…Barons take vacations?”

“I’m overdue.” Frederick replied. “Been banging around Manitoba for a fair few years, a far fair few years. When Ash was figuring on ways to come down, I figured two birds with one stone: do my favorite honorary Canuck a favor _and_ see some sights. You from the area, dear?”

“No, no. I’m an east coast gal, but…here I am.” Vinny shrugged.

“Problems abound, I fear; multiplying like Olympian children delivered on thunder seeds.” Circe said.

Vinny watched a strange look come over the Baron; it looked an _awful_ lot like pity, which would be normal, but there was a hint of something _else_ to it. Maybe it was the tip of his tongue peeking between his lips that made it seem oddly _hungry_.

“Here, babe.” Mitnick said gently, hand out for the phone.

Circe nodded, handing it over. “Be my voice, I need air and space to try and counter the countermand.” she said as she opened the car door.

“Circe, wait--” Vinny wiggled, trying to figure out the best way to get out of the car. Sometimes the Malk scramble really got to her, and while there wasn’t anything Vinny could _actually_ do about it, she thought her friend did better facing it with someone beside her than alone.

“Uh, Ash? You uh…you’re kinda banned from Hollywood.” Mitnick said slowly.

Ash, who had been quietly resisting the urge to hug Vinny’s knees to his chest, startled. “What?”

“My girl’s got a friend who’s a ghoul for one of Isaac’s minions--uh, no offense, I guess,” he said off-handedly to Ash, “she says the word is, Ash can’t set foot anywhere in Hollywood, whether he owns it or not, unless he’s going directly to Isaac. Can’t hunt, can’t hit up their blood bank, none of it. She didn’t go into details so I dunno what the punishment is, but uh…this is kind of a problem.” he said baldly.

“Are you fucking _serious_.” Ash said flatly. “Of all the--of fucking _course_. He thinks he’s got me.” he said bitterly.

“Mind your toes, dear. Think I’ll follow our lovely driver’s lead and take some air.” Frederick said cheerfully, patting her legs lightly before easing out of the car.

Mitnick frowned after him.

“He’s not making a move, it’s probably just a Malkavian thing .” Ash explained, after the car door closed.

“He’s Malkavian?” Mitnick repeated. “Wild.” he shrugged, debating on whether or not it would be a good idea to slip into being Unseen and step out of the car.

“Huh…guess they’re all really different.” Vinny mused. “But more importantly, we can’t go to Hollywood? I mean in the car.”

“Not unless I go directly to Isaac’s.” Ash said bitterly. “I’m not going.” he said flatly. “There’s still some time to find some place else to sleep.”

“We still have to find a place for your pal too.” Mitnick said, eyes flicking towards the windows, trying to keep an eye on the distance between Circe and the Baron. The older Malkavian had an odd air, and Kindred like that tended to leave her more scrambled than usual.

Vinny sighed, and rubbed her temples. “We’ll figure it out.” she said shortly; the elephant in the cab wasn’t getting any smaller, but there was literally no way to deal with it _before_ dealing with the Baron’s entry.

“I’m sorry.” Ash said softly. “I didn’t mean for this to happen--I told Velvet I was coming, I didn’t tell her to come, _or_ to bring Isaac. I _didn’t_.” he repeated. He was repeating himself an awful lot tonight, he realized.

“I know.” Vinny replied gently. “I _know_.” she sighed. “We’ll figure it out. There’s five brains in this cab, at least one of them should be able to come up with an idea.”


	2. Back to Santa Monica

“You know, I’m not a prissy lad. I can hop couches a bit, until we get this sorted out. Probably should’ve gone to Anaheim or or maybe San Diego first.” Frederick said genially, eyeing the green-haired neonate with interest. “Still new at this, aren’t you popkin?” he said sympathetically, unperturbed that such a young vampire was giving him so obvious a side-eye. He wondered what their kinship did to her.

“No…such luck.” Circe said slowly, feeling sweat gather at the small of her back. For the first time in a _very_ long time, her thoughts were _almost_ clear and the words coming out of her mouth _almost_ in order. It was disturbing, to say the least. “Kuei-jin, despite losing a strong member, hold San Diego. Anaheim, I think, fell to someone else. Can’t say for sure…Santa Monica is safe-ish, and LA, and Hollywood, when not in…Ash’s company.” She turned to face the Elder, lips trembling. “What. _Are_. You?”

Her words dripped honey sweet for the most part, just a _hint_ of dusty fear in them. Frederick resisted the urge to lick his lips. “Kin, popkin; just kin. We’re not all the same kind of mad, I’m afraid.” he said softly. “Do you not know another?”

“The white daughter of Janus--” Circe said immediately, then frowned. She had presumably always referred to Jeanette that way, but only now did the strangeness of the statement really ring. “Jeanette Voerman. Baron of Santa Monica…she might…she might put you up. But she…she can be…” She didn’t know what was more upsetting: spending nights struggling to _stop_ the words from spilling out, or this instance of _not_ having enough words to explain.

“A handful? That’s promising.” Frederick smiled broadly for a moment. He studied the young Malk’s face for a moment, and that was enough to tamp down his grin. “Don’t be afraid of me, dear. You’re a friend to Ash, and that’s friend enough to me.” he reached out and cupped her face.

“I have a boyfriend.” Circe said immediately, frozen with fear and feeling like a rabbit in a hunter’s cheater spotlight.

Frederick kissed her once, soft and chaste, then drew back. He nodded. “You suit each other. Compliment each others’ taste, I mean.” He said, giving in and licking his lips. American honey, sweet and floral from flowers he didn’t know the names of anymore; it blended well with the Nosferatu’s oak-y, leather-y snarl. “All I wanted to know dear. Let’s go to Santa Monica, and I’ll meet this wild child and beg a place to lie down for the night. Then we can pick up from tomorrow.” he said, as the cab was rocked by a slamming door. Frederick watched the whiskey-flavored Nosferatu skid across the bonnet like an action star and land on his feet besides Honey-sweet, and put an arm around her.

“Everything ok?” Mitnick asked, barely containing his irritation. It wasn’t that they were _exclusive_ -exclusive. With Jeanette acting as the primogen for all two regular Malkavians in the area and Circe’s sometimes poorly-timed complacency, that didn’t work. _But_ something about the new guy had her in worse shape than usual, and damned if he wouldn’t try to at least do _something_ to protect her!

Circe shook her head, then latched onto him, chin digging into his shoulder as she clung to him desperately. She whimpered when his arms wrapped around her. “When…if you have magnets. And you put them end to end, what happens?”

“They…stick together?” Mitnick said slowly, frowning.

“And if you try to put like ends together?” she continued.

“They repel.” he replied. “But I’m not following.”

“The Baron is mad, but not like me. And his madness, and mine…” Circe struggled, honestly and sincerely, to try and describe what was going on. “I’m…almost clear-headed, right now. Like you’ve never known me to be. Like I’ve never been since…since I was Turned.” she whispered.

Mitnick pulled back slowly, stunned. He cupped her face, studying her eyes; one green, one brown (her ‘new normal’, since being Turned, she’d told him once), and fairly steady. “That’s…I mean…” he didn’t know what to say to that.

“I hate it.” Circe whispered, eyes burning as tears welled up. “It is no relief, no balm--just a _twist_ of the knife,” she thumped her fist against Mitnick’s chest in frustration, then laid her palm over the spot, “I’m sorry…” she huffed as the tears started to pour.

It hadn’t been a gentle knock, but Mitnick ignored the sting to pull her back into a hug. “Hey, _hey_ , it’s ok. It’s _ok_. Look, look, we’ll take him…uh…”

“Santa Monica.” Circe said, sniffling. “To Jeanette.”

Hearing the Santa Monica Baron’s _actual_ name come out of his girl’s mouth, instead of some allusion to a Roman god or something even more esoteric, shook him to the core. “Ok. _Ok_ , we’ll take him to Santa Monica, he can be Jeanette’s problem for the night, then you and me--hey, _hey_ …” Mitnick rubbed his cheek against the side of her head as she continued to weep, “We’ll go back to your place, I’ll run my nails down, then I’ll do your neck like you showed me, yeah? We’ll take a bath, I’ll rub your neck all nice and loose, we’ll watch people bake, and wake up together tomorrow night.” Mitnick waited for a response for what seemed like forever; then Circe’s arms went around his waist, hands knitting together behind his back. “There, I knew you’d like that plan. Almost as much fun as what we were gonna do anyway.” he said, trying to coax a response.

Circe swallowed. “Mitnick? Why do you put up with me? I mean me-when-I’m-all-fucky?”

He supposed, if ever there was a time for her to ask this question and him to answer it honestly and nothing get lost in translation, it would be on a night when the Malk scramble did something new and weird and had her sounding _almost_ normal. “Because I love you. I just do. The screwy parts of you…well…they’re just there. Like my face that you put up with.” he replied. “We both got some kinda baggage that a lot of the others don’t, but it…I guess for me, it cancels out.”

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes and finding him in the smog-and-highway air: the mineral smell of the Warrens, a hint of Axe from the jacket, Old Spice Sport deodorant, and the pine air freshener in the cab. “I like your face, you know.”

“Well, _now_ you do…I’m still pretty sure if I’d crept on you while you were still alive, looking like this, it’d be a different story.” he snorted.

“Depends…do you always start with the jokes and cute animal pictures?” Circe asked.

“Well…not always, but since we started over email, probably yeah.” Mitnick replied.

“Then I’d still wind up riding you like a pony.” Circe replied. “And nagging you about wearing your brace that I _know_ you’re not wearing right now.” she added, pulling back and fixing him with a stern look.

He grinned and shook his head, cupping her face again. “Craziest thing of all is…I believe you.” Mitnick then kissed her forehead. “Come on, let’s get rid of the crowd.”

She nodded, taking another deep breath. “Don’t try to fuck with him. Age and politics aren’t on our side tonight.” Circe warned.

The Nosferatu made a face. “I hear you, I just don’t like it.”

“Me neither.” Circe shrugged. “But you, I do. So be nice…ish.” she tempered.

He smirked. “You know me, I’m _Mister Geniality_.”

Circe rolled her eyes and waited for him to get back in the cab before pulling out her phone. She could at least warn Jeanette strange company was coming; although knowing Jeanette, she’d just take it as a new personal challenge.

***

“You’ve still got that place in Santa Monica, don’t you?” Mitnick asked, after getting back into the cab. It had required an awkward shuffle to put the Malkavian baron back in the backseat, but he seemed to take it with good humor and probably only a little bit of spite expressed by clambering between the front seats to the back in a tangle of limbs. He wa _s definitely_ a Malkavian!

At the very least, the question cut through the awkward silence that would make the cab unbearably stuffy if the occupants within actually needed to breathe. Vinny, still trying to untangle her legs from the Baron’s, without kicking Ash or the windows, grunted before responding. “Uh--yeah, yeah? Paint’s probably dry by now.” she snorted. “You know, Fred, _you could’ve used the door_.” She pointed out as Frederick half-sat on one of her feet.

“This was faster.” he said cheerfully. “Now, tell me about Santa Monica; is that where the shenanigans happened? I’ve only heard some _delightful_ rumors involving werewolves, C4, a _Nagloper_?” he prompted.

Vinny blinked. “Um…wow. Ok, I knew we were some gossiping-ass monsters but _damn_ talk went far.” she shifted, trying not to cause damage. “Santa Monica’s kind of…rough.” she said diplomatically, ignoring Mitnick’s snort. “There’s a waterfront arcade, a little beach…a crappy clinic, but there’s a blood bank attached--if you go there, Vandal’s an asshole and will be rude to you. He’s also the Baron’s ghoul so…bitch-slapping him isn’t an option.”

Frederick nodded. “Got it, good to know. Is that where all your clan is resting?”

“No, no. We’re in Hollywood; the place in Santa Monica _used_ to be a Camarilla hidey-hole. After Lacroix got the boot, that was my ‘hey good job, here’s your oatmeal-raisin cookie’.” Vinny said drily. Right now, one of Frederick’s thighs was sandwiched between her lower leg and it was all she could do to keep most of her foot out of his crotch.

“I like oatmeal-raisin, but I think I get where you’re going.” Frederick said genially as the green-haired Malkavian finally got back in the cab.

Vinny watched her hand her phone to Mitnick, and nearly _physically_ winced as a wave of guilt rolled over her. All the awkward tonight must’ve pushed her over an edge. She’d have to make it up to Circe after Ash and his weirdo friend cleared out.

“Jeanette knows you’re coming, extends the whole hospitality thing…uh, fair warning, she’s _wild_.” Mitnick warned, reading off the phone. “And no, I will not be elaborating on that.” he added sharply.

“That’s alright, I’m a man with a sense of adventure.” Frederic replied as the cab joined the flow of traffic. “What’s her Elysium like?”

“It’s called the Asylum, used to be a theater I think?” Vinny explained. “Lot of junkies in the alleys, lot of tourists and baby goths on the floor. Bartender’s a hardass.” she added, as a warning. “I guess uh…I guess if Hollywood’s out, you could stay over the pawnshop again.” Vinny suggested. “Cleaned it up since last time you were there.”

“It’s fine. Anywhere is fine,” Ash said, _just_ resisting the urge to add ‘if it’s with you’--he’d already made things plenty awkward already, “I’m sorry about this. I just…I really underestimated how spiteful Isaac would be.” he sighed.

“Chin up, boy-o! Tomorrow night, I’ll go and charm the old coot.” Frederick said soothingly. “One way, or another.” he added.

Three of the cab’s occupants did not like the sound of that; Ash, on the other hand, just shook his head. “Not with that show you put on at the airport.” he said drily. “Isaac holds grudges.”

“Yes, but I’m older and better-dressed. I’ll bring a present, point out the need for hospitality… _don’t_ you lot worry for anything.” Frederick grinned a nasty, knife’s edge grin. “Now let’s get this rambling lemon to the seaside, I’m dying to explore.”

Circe’s grip on the steering wheel was tight. Mitnick tucked her phone into his coat with his own, and spent the rest of the ride with his hand on her thigh. Vinny spent the rest of the right sitting awkwardly tense (and occasionally invisible, when the eighteen-wheelers rolled by), tangled with Ash and the Baron. The Toreador and Elder Malkavian watched the lights, introspective and quiet. One looked forward to the adventure, and the other mulled how to better express himself. As it turns out, airport confessions are only romantic _in the movies_ …


End file.
